


To Care for Magical Creatures and People (George Weasley x Reader)

by weekdayworld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekdayworld/pseuds/weekdayworld
Summary: As you learn to care for a magical creature you also learn that George Weasley cares for you and you him.
Relationships: George Weasley/Reader, George Weasley/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	To Care for Magical Creatures and People (George Weasley x Reader)

You could hear the soft waves lapping the shoreline of the Great Lake behind you. However, your focus was on the small creature in front of you. The Weasley twins were on either side of you, forming a semicircle around the gleaming black creature. 

Look Georgie,” Fred said while continuing to stare at the creature, “it’s the spitting image of you as a baby.”

You knitted your brow in concentration while the twins exchanged a flurry of insults. “You may be right,” you said, tilting your head towards Fred. 

A feigned look of pain crossed George’s face. “It’s a baby,” you dully elaborated. 

The twins exchanged looks. “What exactly is it?” Fred questioned, emphasizing the word “it.”

“And where did it come from?” George added. 

These were both valid questions, but you had no more knowledge of the creature than the twins did. Your mind mentally went to the Care of Magical Creatures section in the library. “I don’t know, but I do know how to find out.”

George, who had always had an aptitude for interpreting your silence, voiced the question that was beginning to take hold in your mind and unfurl. “You want to bring it back to the castle?” he questioned. 

You turned your head to face the encroaching storm clouds, foreboding in their size and shape. The wind had steadily picked up sending shivers of movements across the surface of the lake. 

Someone more practical would have protested your plan, but the twins lived for unconventional and undeveloped plans. 

“We’re in,” they said in unison. 

Now, there was the matter of transporting the creature. The small creature’s fur stood on end as crouched down. 

“George,” you said softly, “your scarf.” 

He lowered himself beside you while slowly unfurling his scarf from his neck. It was still warm when he slipped it into your hand. On all fours you inched forward, taking especial care not to startle the black ball of fur. It shrank away from your outstretched hand as you placed the maroon red and gold scarf down in front of it. You and the twins hanged on to its every movement. Finally, the creature gave the scarf a sniff before settling down on the soft fabric, visibly exhausted.

You and George exchanged a look of triumph from your positions on the ground. You folded both ends of the scarf inward making a bundle that could easily be lifted. Sliding your hands underneath the bundle of fabric you did just that. The creature gave a small stir but, thankfully, seemed to decide against any further struggle. 

With the black creature securely in your arms, you stood outside the entrance of Hogwarts and just out of sight of Professor Snape who was stationed at the entrance. 

You glanced down at the creature burrowed in the scarf and back up to Snape. 

“We need a distraction,” you said. 

“Of explosive proportions,” Fred said. A wicked glint had entered the twin’s eyes. 

“I was thinking the exact same thing,” George continued, removing a shimmering sphere from his pocket. Fred did the same. These were one of the many products you were testing for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes in the unused bathroom on the seventh floor of the castle. These, due to their explosive quality, remained untested. The button on top of each sphere would cause a chain reaction within, igniting fuses that culminate in a full-on firework show or, at least, that was the idea.

“We haven’t tested them yet,” you said apprehensively. 

“No time like the present,” the twins answered.

“What if we get caught?”

“It will have been well worth it.”

The plan was simple. As you began to walk towards the entrance with an inconspicuous moving bundle, Fred and George would dazzle with a firework show on the outside castle grounds. You would then reunite in the bathroom that doubled as a shop. 

A quarter of the way to the entrance and Snape’s oppressive gaze, a loud explosion sounded from behind you followed by several more that descended into low whistles. Snape fled past you, his cloak billowing. The smell of smoke entered the air as you clutched the creature closer to your chest. A smile crossed your face. 

You had not been in the bathroom for more than fifteen minutes when George came catapulting into the room. He smelled of smoke and you noticed the singed tips of his hair. 

“Fred?” you said, noting his absence. 

“Unfortunately,” George said, “he’ll be becoming intimately acquainted with the professor over detention for the next week.”

A look of pity crossed your face. 

“How is it?” George asked as he sank down next to you, his back pressed firmly against the wall. 

You uncovered the creature who was now in a tight ball, its small chest rising and falling. A faint snore echoed throughout the room. George leaned down to hear, the side of his face aligned with yours. He turned towards you catching your eyes before leaning back again. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

“What now?” George asked in a whisper. 

The windows shook from the wind outside as if it were begging permission to enter. A heavy downpour of rain overrode all other sounds. 

“We can’t leave it here alone,” you said.

George mulled over your words. “Better get comfortable,” he said as he stretched his legs out, “because we’re having a sleepover.” 

-

The moment George voiced these lines he searched your face for any unease. Noting nothing out of the ordinary his gaze lowered to the midnight black creature nestled on your lap. It had a long duckbill with webbed feet and sinewy claws. It was one of those creatures that seemed to be made up of unused parts. Despite this, George already felt an affinity for it, maybe because you liked it so much. 

As you stared down at the mysterious creature, he traced the perpetual curve of your lips up to the slope of your nose. 

“It’s Q&A time,” he said trying to quiet the voices in his head telling him to kiss you. 

“When you said we were having a sleepover I didn’t think you meant all the embarrassing games that come with it,” you said.

“Embarrassing?’” he said offended. “This is an intimate game that forces people to bare their soul.”

“I’m nervous now,” a clipped laugh escaped your mouth.

“Which Hogwarts ghost is the most attractive?” he said completely serious. 

Your laugh echoed off the walls of the bathroom. “They’re all dead.”

“That’s a plus for some,” George said sarcastically. 

You shook your head in amusement at the absurdity of the question. “I- I guess the Grey Lady if I have to choose.” George pursed his lips in understanding. “You?” you questioned.

“No, sorry, that’s not the way the game works. Ask your own question.” His smile widened.

You looked at George like he was caught in a snare of his own making. “Which professor would you have fancied back in the day?”

The red-haired twin was stunned into silence by your question. “You’ve crossed a line I didn’t know could be crossed,” he said in an exaggerated tone of censure, “it’s criminal.” A minute elapsed before he spoke again. “McGonagall.”

You both burst out in laughter at the mere mention of the stern Transfiguration professor. 

The game went on until your voices slowed with sleepiness. The final question of the night went to you. “Who do you fancy?” George said barely audible.

Your muscles tensed at this. “Someone,” you said, your tone meandering.

You felt protected by the darkness that concealed you from George. “He is life himself and every time I’m around him I feel like I’m out of breath.” You smiled at the mental image of George you had conjured in your mind and drifted off to sleep.

George did not press you for the name of the boy who left you breathless because he desperately wanted it to be his. With you in his mind, he fell asleep to the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

-

Your eyes fluttered open. Sunlight streamed in from the windows making the dust particles floating by look like gold. You drew a deep breath, craning your head upwards towards George who also was just beginning to wake. You were both leaning on each other with your head resting on the crevice of his neck. You held his eyes for a second almost chuckling at his disheveled hair when you realized the position you were in. At the same time, you both pulled away from each other leaving a space in between where you had, at some point in the night, gotten closer to George and he you.

Before embarrassment set in, you noticed George’s empty scarf on the floor. “Where is it?” you asked, alarmed. 

George startled up, moving to one side of the bathroom while you went to the other. 

“Y/N?” George said. Something was off about his voice. 

You moved to his side of the room and saw why his body went rigid. The creature was holding the same sphere that the twins had used as a distraction yesterday. George extended his hand out in a give-it-here manner, causing the creature to pull it closer. 

Changing tactics, you slowly reached for a clear vial with shimmering liquid in it, one of many untested potions. The creature’s eyes filled with the sheen of the liquid as it slowly set the sphere down for the vial you were extending towards it. George snatched up the sphere, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Bat,” you said aloud.

“What?” George questioned. 

You looked on as the creature tipped the vile upside down sending the shimmering particles cascading downward. “It needs a name and the main ingredient in that potion is bat.”

“Bat,” he said like he was testing how the name felt. “Bat it is. A gothic boy.” 

“We need to figure out what Bat is,” you continued.

“Besides a pyromaniac,” George added placing the sphere carefully on the windowsill of the bathroom. 

You took your bookbag and gently placed Bat in it who didn’t seem to mind so long as he had his vial. “Clauditis,” you said while drawing a figure eight in the air with your wand. It was a locking spell that would keep Bat in your bag while George and you searched the library for information that would help you identify him and locate his family. 

-

George and you stared at the picture of a similar looking creature as Bat. 

“That is not Bat,” he said. “ . . . grows wings within four hours of being born,” he continued trailing his finger under a sentence in the book. 

You slid the book back into its place, unhelpful in your search like the ten other books before it. Your hand lingered over a book with gold lettering. 

“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” you said, reading the title aloud. 

You combed through the book until you found the exact image of Bat. 

“A Niffler,” George said, putting a name to the black creature, “M.O.M Classification: XXX.”

“Competent wizard should cope,” you said, translating the classification. “Or witch,” you added as an afterthought. 

Immediately, you both swirled around. Your bookbag had disappeared and with it Bat. Students with identical bookbags as yours shuffled around the library. Your eyes darted from one side of the library to the other when George placed something cold on the palm of your hand: a golden Galleon. 

“The book said Nifflers have a predilection for anything glittery,” he said taking out another Galleon. “We’ll get Bat to come to us.”

-

As both of you made your way to McGonagall’s Transfiguration class you discretely left behind a trail of Wizarding currency. 

As you walked along the stone corridors dropping currency in specified intervals George remembered the events of the morning, notably waking up next to you. He also nursed the secret he was keeping from. He had woken half an hour before you and, finding you asleep on him, took advantage of the morning light to study you without fear of being caught. He took note of the way your lips parted while asleep and everything else that made you you. 

You and George promptly took your seats at the back of the class, placing your wands on the sturdy oak desk. McGonagall was still writing something on the blackboard, her arching letters just visible from the back: “State Transformations.”

McGonagall began to explain the theory behind the transfiguration of one state to another. 

“The skill needed to transfigure mist, or water vapor, into a solid-” she continued. 

You dipped your quill in more ink, causing you to look up from your parchment for a moment. A blob of ink collected on your notes as your eyes followed Bat across the ceiling of the Transfiguration classroom. You nudged George who followed your line of sight in wide-eyed horror. 

Bat was making his way to the golden chandelier directly above McGonagall. As she made a motion for the blackboard you intentionally spilled the ink on your desk, sending a pool of black liquid directly onto your lap and the glass bottle into a hundred shards of glass. 

“Y/L/N!” the witch exclaimed, startled. She looked at your ink-stained robes and with a motion of her wand, the ink bottle fell in reverse back on your desk, full once more. 

The sound was enough to stall Bat’s progress but as soon as you sat down again the Niffler began to remove the glittery screws holding the chandelier in place. A bigger distraction was needed. 

“Incendio,” George whispered moving his wand in the shape of a candle flame while aiming at his robe. As soon as he had said it the tail end of his robe burst into flames. 

You pulled away from your shared desk as chaos broke out in the classroom. While all attention was on George and the climbing flames you pointed your wand at Bat who was just beginning to unscrew the second screw. 

“Accio Niffler!” you said. In a black blur, the Niffler flew across the room into the pocket of your robe.

As if perfectly in sync, George extinguished the flames that had burnt a sizeable hole in his robe. McGonagall’s eyes moved from you to George before she pronounced her monosyllabic judgement: “Out!”

-

As you and George made your way to Mr. Filch’s office for the disruption you caused in Transfiguration you took the Niffler out of your pocket.

“Mischief has a way of finding him,” George said, smiling as he took the Niffler in his hands.

“Or maybe he has a way of finding mischief,” you continued talking about George as much as the Niffler. 

Bat somehow looked apologetic as he settled in George’s hand like a child too tired to walk on their own. 

The closer you got to Filch’s office the colder the air seemed to get. Before you rounded the final corner, you were sure to conceal Bat lest he should end up in Filch’s ever-growing room of “confiscated” items. The old caretaker wore his perpetual scowl.

“You again,” he said venomously, addressing George.

“I thought you might be missing me,” George countered. 

Filch’s mouth stiffened as he silently led you to his office that you were to clean as punishment. As the caretaker stalked off you heard the turn of the lock. Immediately, Bat began to investigate his new surroundings. You watched the Niffler move across the floor as the both of you began the undesirable task of cleaning. 

You both reached for the same piece of ink-stained parchment when your hands grazed each other. Even a moment such as this sent a jolt of electricity throughout your body. Unknown to you, it was these small moments that George collected as well.

After an hour, George’s voice broke the silence. 

“You don’t have a file!” his voice came from behind you. 

You turned around to find him shifting through Filch’s meticulous records of Hogwarts’ repeated offenders.

“I’m just better at not getting caught,” you answered. 

You hovered over the file cabinet, your eyes falling on one bulky file. In thick black writing it read: “Weasley Twins.” You flipped open the first page, revealing George as he looked as a first-year student. 

“Adorable,” you mumbled as ran your fingers across the photo. Young George smiled inspite of his missing baby teeth. His hair was disheveled and dreadfully cut. 

“Actually, that’s Fred,” George countered in an effort to hide his embarrassment.

“No, that’s you,” you said confidently. 

“What makes you so sure?” George asked trying to shake your confidence.

“Your eyes are a little downturned compared to Fred’s like crescent moons and your face is more angular. You also have-”

George listened intently as you listed off all that differentiated him from his identical twin. Here was a person who thought being able to distinguish him from his twin was of the utmost importance. For the first time in his life, he knew what it felt like to be George and not, as he usually was, a lingering thought coming after Fred in Fred and George.

George’s silence made you look up from your extensive explanation, his stare was unreadable. Your cheeks colored upon realizing all you had said. The Weasley twin removed what little distance there was between you as he stepped forward. His eyes softened. “Can I-”

The loud meowing of Mrs. Norris alerted both of you to the imminent arrival of her master forcing George to snatch a duster as you placed the file back in the file cabinet. As if on cue, Bat appeared, safely tucking himself into your robe pocket. As the doorknob slowly began to turn, you were sweeping the final section of the floor while George swept the duster across one long shelf. Filch was disappointed that the both of you had done what you were told and begrudgingly signed your detention slip. 

As you walked out of his office, Mrs. Norris hissed at your pocket. George whispered something under his breath causing, with a small movement of his wand, the cat to literally lose her tongue. Once you were sure you were out of eyesight you both broke out in a run.

-

When you returned to the unused bathroom you did so with two cups of spiced apple cider from the Great Hall. The heat from the cup transferred to your hands as the steam from the drink rose into the air, its allspice, cinnamon, and cloves melding together. You and George had also made a detour to one of the Herbology Greenhouses to obtain an assortment of roots for Bat’s dinner. 

Content with his meal, Bat began to make his way up towards George’s shoulder when, losing his balance, the Niffler fell the short fall to the floor. Upon impact, a glistening silver ring along with a pocket watch rolled across the floor. Exchanging looks with you, his face curious, George made his way towards the pocket watch. 

“This is Neville’s,” he said, “I remember Filch confiscated it after he found him in the Herbology Greenhouses after hours.” Sure enough, the inscription inside the watch was that of Frank Longbottom, Neville’s father. George grimaced at the fact that Filch confiscated something so personal from the boy. 

Across the room, your face too morphed into a frown. The ring in your hand belonged to Luna Lovegood. She had blamed the unseen forces at Hogwarts for its disappearance but you now knew Filch was the culprit. 

All attention was on Bat who sat on his haunches, eyeing the both of you rather curiously. 

“What else do you have in there?” George asked, staring down at the Niffler’s concealed pouch. 

By the time the last object was placed on the floor, there was a pile of “confiscated” items belonging to nearly every student at Hogwarts. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” George asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

You turned towards the Weasley twin. “Time to redistribute the wealth.”

-

Slowly but surely George and you discreetly returned the items to their owners with Bat continuously fulfilling his role as the perfect accomplice. A flash of recognition filled each person’s eyes as an item they thought gone forever made its way back to them. No one asked where these items came from, but everyone knew.

As you walked down the corridor on your way to your next class George appeared on the opposing end. He strode towards you until you both stopped halfway down the hall. 

“Need some room to breathe,” George asked as the Niffler stuck his head out of his robe pocket. Upon seeing you, Bat made a noise that you now knew meant happiness. 

“I have a gift for you,” you said, your words directed to the Niffler as you pulled out a golden chain from your pocket. “From my personal collection,” you continued, handing the chain to Bat who was making more of the same noises as before.

“And for me?” George questioned jokingly. 

Neither George nor you had brought up the kiss that almost happened in Filch’s office nor the fact that the both of you still wanted it to. 

Just as you were about to comment, a voice rang out from behind you.

“I know your secret,” the voice said authoritatively. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly turned around. The owner of the voice was Gryffindor Prefect and George’s brother Percy Weasley, in that order.

Your eyes darted to George’s pocket where the Niffler had retreated for the time being. Questions raced through your mind. Exactly how much did Percy know? How did he know? And, more importantly, had he told anyone about Bat?

You were in a precarious position. Even though Fred and George made fun of Percy mercilessly as a Prefect he had some leverage. 

You decided to probe him. “How did you know?” you questioned. 

“It’s quite obvious. You two have been spending every moment together while speaking in constant whispers. One would have to be thick-headed not to know.”

You had taken immense pains to hide Bat over the last week and yet someone had still found out. 

You switched tactics. “You can’t tell anyone,” you said, daring the Prefect to do the opposite. 

Percy’s face took on a dignified look. “It’s not my secret to tell,” he said. 

“Excuse me,” George said dumbfounded. His brother had told on Fred and him every chance he got. The Percy he knew would never pass up the chance to land him in detention, even if it meant losing house points for Gryffindor. 

Percy swept his finger between the both of you. “Policing who students date is not my job but I thought I would let you know that dating my brother does not entitle you to any special treatment. I will not besmear the Prefect title in that way.”

You made no movement. Percy thought you and George were a couple. 

Before you had time to correct the Prefect, George interlaced his hand with yours. 

“Well done detective,” George said, “you’ve figured it out.” He gave your hand a squeeze. 

Percy looked smug. Briefly, you and George’s eyes meant and a silent conversation occurred. 

Trust me is what his eyes said and trust him you did. 

“I was just walking Y/N to class,” George said stepping back.

And to sell the scene the both of you had created, you stood on your toes and planted a light kiss on George’s cheek.

You smiled, leading George further down the corridor while leaving Percy to his own head-shaking disapproval. 

As the two of you turned the corner, you could not help but laugh. “One would have to be thick-headed not to know,” George said quoting his brother whilst mocking his rigid posture. 

“Dating my brother does not entitle you to any special treatment,” you mocked, pushing your chest out in the same way Percy did to make himself more imposing.

“We make a convincing couple,” George said breathless from laughter. 

Bat scurried up George’s shoulder, leaping from his to yours. Framed by the lowering sun you three looked like a family. You felt like one too which is why you knew it was time to reunite Bat with his own. 

-

You tightened your scarf as George beckoned you across the darkened corridor. With the Marauder’s Map in hand, you made your way through the labyrinth of professors that were patrolling the castle at night. Your shadows moved across the walls as you got closer and closer to the entrance of the castle. As you were about to turn down an endless hall, George pulled you into him and into one of the many rooms at Hogwarts whose doors only appeared at night. He placed a finger on his lips, the universal symbol for “Quiet.” The footsteps suddenly came to a halt outside the room you were in. The dull flicker of a candle danced underneath the door. George’s arm tensed around you as you held your breath. A moment later, the light of the candle descended down the hall again. You both breathed sighs of relief. 

“Thanks,” you whispered as George uncurled his arm from around your waist. 

Excluding the close call in the hall, you had made it outside without much exertion. Your breath collided with the cold winter air in a white cloud each time you exhaled. Even Bat seemed to feel the cold, curling into a tight ball in your pocket. 

“Lumos,” you said, once you were far enough from the entrance to avoid detection. A bath of white light washed over the root gnarled landscape in front of you. Picking up the pace, you and George made your way down to the lakeside. 

Just as you did upon first meeting Bat you lowered yourself to the ground. This time, however, you had a hard time putting the Niffler down. Its eyes moved from you to George and back again. 

You gave a reassuring smile. 

In response, the Niffler made a deep sound in measured intervals.

“Better get comfortable,” George said quoting himself from the first night the both of you had spent with Bat.

You and George sat side by side, your knees just touching. With each icy burst of wind, you got closer and closer to each other until you looked like one person instead of two. The moon made the surface of the lake look like an entrance into an alternate world.

After what felt like an eternity, a rustling bush revealed a slightly larger version of Bat. You and George smiled at each other. Trailing behind Bat’s mother were three other baby Nifflers of different colors. This caused the younger Weasley twin to raise his eyebrow. The three Nifflers climbed over their lost brother while the mother offered a simple touch of the snout. You recognized this as relief though. As the mother began to lead her brood back into the underbrush, Bat paused and turned to face the both of you. He made the sound you knew, and would never forget, to be happiness. 

George interlaced his hand with yours as you watched the baby Niffler disappear.

“We make a convincing couple,” he said quietly. 

You turned to face him. “Maybe we should make it official.”

Under a blanket of stars, George cupped your face and your lips meet his with undeniable ease. Against the soft movement of his lips and the warmth of his skin, you faded into him. Slowly pulling away, the smell of pine lingered in the night air. The waves invisibly lapped at the shoreline. The coldness of the night disappeared with the second kiss. 

“Rumor has it there is a baby dragon in the Forbidden Forest,” George said finally.

“Better stick to Nifflers,” you responded before you kissed him again, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I incapable of writing a story that does not involve falling in love with George Weasley? Maybe so. 
> 
> Also, J.K. Rowling is a vile human being who invalidates the identity of transgender people. If you can, consider donating to transgender organizations like the Transgender Legal Defense & Education Fund or Trans Lifeline, while continuing to enjoy the magic of Harry Potter.


End file.
